


Mi Casa, Su Casa

by ZairaA



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, BAMFs, Banter, Canon Disabled Character, Chess, Discrimination, First Time, Humor, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mutant Politics, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What do you mean he was evicted? He’s right here, smoking in the bathtub.”</i>
</p><p>Charles rents an apartment. Erik refuses to move out. No, honestly, he's not going anywhere, Charles better deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man In The Bathtub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [widgenstain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain/gifts).



> Dear widgenstain, I must confess I've run fast and loose with your prompts. I'm not very good at writing PWP, but hang in there. I promise, there's porn to come. There's just a hell of a lot plot to get through first, which I hope you don't mind too much. ;) I really loved your letter and kept nodding along to all you said about Charles and Erik and their relationship, so I sincerely hope this story is one you'll enjoy. Happy Secret Mutant! :)
> 
> Inspired by this tumblr post: http://mcfassy-comm.tumblr.com/post/129323502128/daily-delicious-17th-september-2015-original
> 
> All my love and gratitude to A for her amazing beta job and encouragement and to A and J for pre-reading and hand-holding. <3

Charles Xavier could honestly say that he had not been surprised by a lot since his mutation kicked in when he was ten years old. He had not been surprised when his first girlfriend dumped him because he was ‘just too weird’, or when his second girlfriend dumped him because he was ‘emotionally unavailable’. He probably could have seen the third break-up coming a lot sooner, but he had been too busy kissing the girl’s brother and marveling over the fact that he could read people’s minds and yet be so clueless about his own.

He had been barely more than a teenager back then, and his self-awareness as well as his powers had grown quite a bit since. These days Charles knew who he was and most often he knew who the people around him were as well, because they tended to broadcast their emotions even if Charles didn’t try to read them. With regard to human beings, there were hardly any mysteries left for Charles Xavier.

So as he was riding up in the elevator to his new apartment, Charles became instantly aware of an intriguing presence which stood out in the building. A warm, languid laziness wrapped around a mind as sharp as a blade. Charles was more than a little curious, but unfortunately the day had been long, the social event he’d been forced to attend after had been gruesome, and Charles was simply too tired to pay any more attention.

All he really wanted was go to sleep. He hadn’t even seen his new apartment yet, but Raven had promised that it would be furnished and had sent someone over earlier to prepare everything and stock the fridge and cupboards. The only thing that mattered was that he had a space of his own and was able to get away from the increasingly hostile atmosphere at the mansion, where he had spent the past two weeks with his mother and step-father.

Charles had only recently come back to New York to take over the reins at his late father’s company and fix what his step-father’s greed and poor decision-making had ruined. There had never been any love lost between Kurt Marko and him, but now his step-father’s mind was filled with so much hate, spite and bitterness that it gave Charles a constant headache and some days made him sick to the stomach.

He very much hoped that once he had put things to right, he would be able to go back to his much quieter life as a scientist on the other side of the ocean, far away from moronic board members, vapid socialites and his mother’s ever increasing drinking problem.

The loft his sister had found him wasn’t in the best part of town, but Charles had been sold on it as soon as she described the open living space and the incredibly convenient freight elevator. Wheelchair accessibility was hard to come by in the city.

Exiting at the top floor, he pulled off his bow tie and shrugged out off his suit jacket. It was dark in the loft. The backdrop of glittering city lights outside the large transom windows was the only illumination, and Charles turned on a few low lights to look around. He was quite satisfied with the worn but comfortable furnishings. There were even books in the bookcase. He explored further and noted the slightly rumpled sheets of the bed with an amused frown, wondering whether Raven’s friends had gone a little overboard getting everything ready.  

The intriguing mind he’d sensed in the elevator still lingered, but maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe the third glass of champagne was to blame, because he didn’t realize it wasn’t just anywhere in the building until he pushed the door to the bathroom open and was left momentarily stunned when he found a man lying in his empty bathtub.

Charles stopped just inside the door and blinked.

“Would you mind telling me what you’re doing in my bathroom?” he asked, rather primly, after a moment.

The man - who he was relieved to see was at least fully clothed - gave Charles an unapologetic smile which showed an alarming amount of teeth.

“Smoking,’’ he said with a raised eyebrow, before he took another drag from his cigarette.

“I can see that. That doesn’t explain why you’re residing in my bathtub.”

The man shrugged. “I live here.”

“No, you don’t,’’ Charles objected. ‘’I live here.”

Now the man gave Charles a lazy once-over. “That’s fine. I don’t mind sharing.”

Charles wasn’t easily rendered speechless, but he wasn’t sure if he had ever been confronted with quite that level of audacity before. The man wasn’t lying, though. Charles could feel his confidence and conviction without even taking a closer look.

“How did you even get in here?” Charles asked, wheeling himself closer only for the man to raise his eyebrow again with an air of amusement.

“Through the door.”

“Without a key?”

“I don’t need a key.”

He was studying Charles unabashedly now, all the while smoking his cigarette like he didn’t have a care in the world. Charles bit his lip. Yes, he had his own ethics, but this was getting ridiculous. It was a matter of self-defense, really. The man could be a murderer for all that Charles knew; there definitely was something ruthless and uncompromising about him.

Charles propped his elbow on the armrest of his wheelchair, cradling his face in the palm of his hand, before he discreetly slid two fingers up against his temple and reached out to brush against the man’s mind.

His first impression was that of fire and electricity, a mind that was brilliant and quick and filled with a burning passion. It was fascinating and astonishingly beautiful, but Charles forced himself to dive deeper and grab-- yes.

The man - _Erik Lehnsherr_ \- had indeed been living in the loft for quite some time. At least a year, because he had a memory of watching the snow fall outside the windows. As far as Charles could tell, he lived here alone, and he was… an art student, notoriously low on money and with rather disturbing eating habits, but... he did _incredible_ things with metal and… oh.

Charles sucked in a sharp gasp.

The man was a mutant.

_I am. And you’re a telepath. Get out of my head._

The snarl was accompanied by a mental push, not strong enough to dislodge Charles, but he was so surprised that Erik had even noticed his intrusion that he let go, only to realize that his wheelchair was moving backwards of its own accord.

He was pushed out of the bathroom at an alarming speed, and then the door slammed shut in front of his nose.  

_That was rude._

The only response he got from Erik was a mixture of  disbelief and scorn and a pointed picture of a pot and a kettle.

For a moment Charles just sat there, staring at the closed door. He knew he could make Erik leave, could make him walk out without so much as a backwards glance or even putting on his shoes. He could make him forget about this place, about Charles, about everything that had happened tonight.

Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose. Tempting as it might be, he had rules for what he felt was an ethical way to use his powers, and while the line might get blurry sometimes, this would be pushing it a little too far.

"You're going to have to leave, you know," Charles said to the closed door, but was greeted with silence.

What was he supposed to do now? Call the landlord? It was the middle of the night. Call the police? That felt like an incredible hassle, and after dipping into his mind, Charles was confident that Erik wasn’t dangerous. Just annoying and rather inconvenient. How had Raven not realized that someone was squatting here?

With a sigh Charles turned the chair around and made his way to the kitchen. After giving the space another look, he had to admit that it was apparent that this was Erik’s home and had been so for quite some time. The well-thumbed paperbacks had to be his. And Charles now noted more details, like the thick, woolen cardigan lying on the couch or the sketch pad on the low table.

Valiantly resisting the temptation to snoop, Charles filled the kettle on the stove with water and went in search for the teabags. When the tea was brewing and there was still no sign or sound of Erik, Charles pulled out his phone, and despite the late hour, his sister answered on the third ring.     

“Raven.”

“Charles! How are you? How’s the apartment? Do you like it?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,’’ Charles remarked dryly. ‘’Unfortunately I’m not the only one.”

“Huh?”

Charles had to admit that he should probably have known better than to send his little sister out to find him a place to live, but Charles had little time, and the prospect of facing all kinds of humiliating situations as well as the real-estate agent’s pity had been rather daunting.

“You didn’t mention that someone was already living here,” he said, pouring the boiling water over the leaves.

“Because… there isn’t? What are you going on about?’’

“Well there’s a young man--”

“God, Charles, you sound like a grandpa. You’re only thirty-two yourself.”

“Be that as it may, there’s a man here who insists that this is his apartment, and I’m hard pressed to argue when his things are everywhere. Apparently he’s some sort of student and he--”

“Ooh, that was the last tenant. The landlord mentioned him. Don’t worry. He was evicted.”

“What do you mean he was evicted? He’s right here, smoking in my bathtub.”

“He’s there? Have you called the police?”

“No. That seemed excessive.”

“Charles, if someone broke into your apartment, it’s not excessive to call the cops.’’ She paused for a moment before she added. “Of course you could just make him leave.”

“You know I don’t like to do that.”

Raven sighed. “Why are you so nice? At least have the locks changed. That should solve the problem.”

Having seen what Erik could do with metal, Charles very much doubted it.

“I guess. I’ll call someone tomorrow.”

‘’You don’t sound convinced. Charles, you don’t know this guy from Adam. You don’t owe him anything. It’s not your job to save every stray you come across.”

“You didn’t object when the stray was you,” Charles reminded her.

“You were a lonely little boy,” Raven didn’t hesitate to remind him in her incredibly blunt way. “And I was really cute. Is he cute?”

Charles snorted. Erik was undoubtedly attractive, but he was also a jerk. ‘Cute’ certainly wasn’t the word that came to mind.

“See?” Raven went on, oblivious. “You have to look out for yourself, not just others. That was the whole point of renting that place, remember?”

“I know. Believe me, I know. But it’s the middle of December, I can’t just throw him out.”

“Yes, you can! He’s not your responsibility.”

“Maybe I can find him somewhere else to stay,” Charles said with a sigh, mentally already riffling through the people he could contact on Erik’s behalf.

“Too nice. Really, Charles, throw this guy out or I’ll come over and do it for you.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry. I can handle it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You better!”

She then launched into some wild account of the party she had gone to, and that cute guy in her class who kept glancing at her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, and wasn’t that too adorable for words. Charles let her voice wash over him, accompanied by her faint mental presence a few miles away, while he tried his best to blank out the prickly taste of metal that came from across the loft, where Erik was still brooding in the bathtub.

When he hung up a few minutes later, Charles stared at the two cups of tea he had prepared without a second thought. He would always be grateful for Raven’s presence in his life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still lonely sometimes.

He took a deep breath, and then sent out an image of the steaming cup with a reconciliatory nudge.

_Would you mind having a cup with me?_

He didn’t have to wait long for the bathroom door to swing open, and then Charles nearly choked on his tea. Erik was leaning against the frame with one forearm raised above his head. It put the long line of his body on display, emphasizing his narrow hips, the corded muscles of his arms and, well… everything really. Because for some reason Erik had lost his shirt, and Charles was treated to a full view of the plains of his chest, the dark contrast of his nipples, and the taut stretch of his stomach. Charles heartbeat quickened and he suddenly felt short of breath.

Erik took another casual drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out from the corner of his mouth.

“I usually prefer coffee,’’ he said.

He threw the cigarette butt over his left shoulder, probably aiming for the toilet bowl, before sauntering over towards Charles like a large and slightly starved jungle cat. There was a challenge in his eyes and a suspicious curiosity permeating from his mind as he picked up the proffered mug without ever taking his eyes from Charles.

“So,” he said after he had taken a careful sip. “Is this some sort of peace offering?”

Charles raised a questioning eyebrow, facing Erik just as bluntly across the counter.

“I wasn’t aware that I needed to make one. As far as I can tell, you’ve broken into my apartment--”

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Erik interrupted.

But Charles ignored him. “--and this is an attempt to have a civil conversation about that.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Erik a stern look, but then was momentarily distracted by the spike of arousal coming from him.

“My sister tells me you’ve been evicted,” he said, clearing his throat.

Erik shrugged, unfazed. ‘’It’s hard to get rid of me.”

He smiled with all his teeth again, which should have been frightening, but instead made Charles’ stomach flutter. Charles really had the worst taste in men, and he absolutely would _not_ go there.

“Listen,” he said, trying to ignore Erik’s naked chest and the way his long fingers wrapped around the mug. ‘’I understand that you might not have anywhere else to go, and I’m not going to throw you out in the cold tonight. If you don’t have a place to stay, I can help you find something. I know a lot of people in this city.”

If he had expected gratitude, he was sorely disappointed. There was a flash of anger and from the way Erik’s mouth flattened into a thin line it was obvious that he was anything but pleased.

“That’s very generous of you,” he said stiffly. “But I prefer to stay where I am. Thanks for the tea.”

He put the mug down with a clink and stalked off towards the sleeping area.

“Erik!”

Already halfway across the room, Erik stopped but didn’t turn around. “I have an early start tomorrow, so I call first dibs on the shower,” he said and then smirked at Charles unabashedly over his shoulder. “I’m not going to force you to sleep on the couch. Just remember that I always take the left side.”

“What’s that supposed to--?’’

Charles wheeled himself out from the kitchen to go after Erik, but hesitated when he started to unbutton his jeans.

The bedroom was separated from the rest of the loft by a large pair of sliding doors, and Erik didn’t bother to close them. Soon enough he emerged again having donned a long-sleeved shirt, boots and another pair of jeans that seemed to be close to falling apart at the seams.

“Erik, listen…”

A pair of cool blue eyes fixed on Charles. “It’s quite presumptious, the way you use my given name,’’ Erik said. ‘’But I guess you don’t bother asking permission, do you?”

“That from the man who uses his powers for trespassing. What would _you_ do if you found a stranger in your bathtub?’’

Erik cocked his head.

“I guess that would depend on the stranger,” he drawled with a lazy smile.

His eyes were slowly gliding up and down Charles’ body, leaving his skin tingling as if from a phantom caress, and Charles tried his best to fight off a the embarassing blush that wanted to creep up his cheeks.

“Could you possibly be serious for a moment?” he snapped, his patience running thin and his nerves frayed.

Erik stalked over towards him until he loomed over Charles and looked down at him with an impressive scowl.

“I can be as serious as you want. This is my apartment. I’ve lived here for three years and I won’t move out. Deal with it.”

With that he grabbed his sketching pad, and before Charles could even think of anything to say, he had vanished up a narrow, metal staircase. Charles assumed it led up to the roof. The stairs weren’t accessible to him, of course, and so Erik had not only successfully evaded their discussion, but also made Charles feel like a fool, his physical short-comings rubbed in his face.

Charles balled his hands into fists for a moment before he pulled out his phone again, contemplating to call the police after all. But the screen informed him that it was already five past two in the morning and  he really didn’t want to deal with this right now. He had been tense the whole day, and could feel the stiffness in his back and the aching muscles of his shoulders. He just wanted to sleep. So that’s what he was going to do. And he wasn’t going to let some self-righteous asshole hold his bed hostage.

After he had finished the complicated ritual of preparing for bed, Charles wheeled himself into the bedroom, and pulled the sliding doors closed with the vague hope of keeping Erik out that way, even if they couldn’t be locked.

The bed, with its slightly crumpled sheets and the unfamiliar scent of fabric softener mixed with a hint of musk, made him a little uncomfortable. He couldn’t think of it as anything but _Erik’s_ bed, but there was nothing to do about it tonight. Charles certainly wasn’t going to sleep on the couch in his own apartment. He eased himself out of his chair, shifted his body until he was in a comfortable sleeping position right in the middle of the bed and closed his eyes with a smug smile.

_There, Mr. Lehnsherr, deal with it._

 

* * *

 

Charles woke to half-darkness, squinting against the faint light spilling from the bathroom door. The smell of ozone hung in the air, not unlike during a thunderstorm. Charles blinked, and his heart jumped when he caught sight of Erik, standing at the foot of the bed, naked apart from a pair of boxer briefs.

Charles’ eyes travelled up from Erik’s tapered waist to his surprisingly broad shoulders. His hair was damp and Charles noticed how it curled in dark little spikes against his neck, a few stray drops splattered on his chest. Why did this man insist on taking his clothes off as soon as Charles wasn’t looking?.

“I didn’t expect you to stay,” Erik said and for the first time he sounded just a little bit uncertain.

Charles pulled himself up to lean against the metal bed frame.

“Of course I stayed. This is my apartment. Where else would I go?”

Erik made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Charles a disbelieving look.

“With all due respect, you’re Charles Xavier. You’re one of the richest men in this city. I don’t think you have any idea what it means to have nowhere else to go.”

There were a lot of things Charles could have said to that, but he didn’t exactly feel like explaining himself, so instead he asked, “How do you know my name?”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You mean without reading your mind?”

“Obviously.”

“I do have my own ways,” Erik smirked, and projected a surprisingly clear memory of tracing Charles’ name on the metal sign of the mailbox, changing the engraving to ‘Erik Lehnsherr’ with vicious satisfaction.

“You have a truly fascinating mutation,” Charles conceded,. “Is it only metal you can control?”

Erik narrowed his eyes a little. “It’s more about electromagnetism.”

“Marvellous.”

Charles reached out again, not bothering to conceal his intrustion this time as he grabbed for whatever surface images he could find. He came away with a rather unflattering picture of himself above a recent newspaper article that described him taking over his father’s company.

“Looking at a few newspaper articles doesn’t mean you know everything about me,” Charles said. “Just like reading your mind doesn’t mean I know everything about you.”

“I know you have some sort of mansion upstate,’’ Erik pointed out with a challenge in his eyes.

“That’s true. It’s rather drab to be honest. I guess I could have called for someone to take me the two hour drive up there, so that I could enjoy the company of my step-father - who hates my guts - and my mother, who at this point will probably be too drunk to recognize me. But I didn’t really feel like it.”

Erik stared at him silently, his mind was like a storm coming in.  “There are a lot of hotels in this city,” he said finally.

“There are,” Charles agreed. “And while you’re right to assume that paying for one would hardly be a problem for me, I don’t like staying in a hotel room.”

“Not even in a five star luxury suite?”

“Not really, no.” Charles regarded him coolly. “You see, they are seldom built with paraplegics in mind. Which is the reason I rented this loft. And maybe you don’t mind sharing, but I certainly do.”

Erik’s eyes were unreadable in the dark, but there was a hard line to his mouth when he answered.

“I guess we have a problem then.”

He walked around to the left side of the bed and reached for the covers, prompting Charles to grab at them with a wide-eyed look.

“What are you doing? You can’t--”

‘’Can’t what?” Erik demanded. “Can’t sleep in my own bed? Damn well, I can!”

And just like that he pulled the sheets out of Charles’ grasp and slipped under the blankets, turning his back on him so that the tense set of his shoulders was not ten inches away from Charles’ nose.

Charles heart hammered in his chest, torn between indignation and reluctant appreciation.

“I could make you sleep on the floor,” he huffed, after a moment.

“Yeah? Why don’t you then?”

“Because I have _manners_ , although I’m not sure you’re familiar with that concept, seeing as you’re trying to make a paralyzed man sleep on the couch.”

Erik’s mind was filled with a dozen conflicting emotions that were chasing each other’s tails.

“Fine,” he finally pressed out through his teeth. “But don’t think you’ve won. This is for tonight, and only tonight!”

He pulled one of the blankets from the bed, shot Charles a fierce glare and then turned to the doors.

Charles bit his lip to suppress a self-satisfied smile before calling after him.

“Erik?”

The man looked back. “What?”

“Have one of these as well!”

Charles would never admit it, but he thoroughly enjoyed it when the pillow smacked Erik right in the face.


	2. The Mystery of Erik Lehnsherr

Dawn crept moody and gray over the horizon when Charles woke again. He hesitantly stretched out with his mind, but to his relief found the loft devoid of Erik’s fierce presence. Then, of course, he went to use the toilet and saw the sticky note on the bathroom mirror.

_Sorry, used up all the hot water. Have a nice day!_

Charles glared at the offending piece of paper. Apparently Erik was the kind to retaliate.

Charles, on the other hand, wasn’t the kind to be easily derailed. After an uncomfortably cold shower and a cup of tea, he was ready for battle. Step one: reconaissance. With a wicked little smile, Charles set out to snoop after all.

Unfortunately, Erik’s personal effects were far and few between. His clothes were worn but well-kept. The same was true for his books, a curious mix of classic and contemporary novels, books on art, history, evolution and philosophy, but nothing that gave true insight into the kind of man Erik Lehnsherr was.

On a small table beside the couch Charles discovered a chess set, the game underway but neither black nor white anywhere close to winning. He studied the board with some interest and moved the remaining black bishop into a position that would allow him to put the white king in check within three moves.

In the desk by the window he found drawers full of pamphlets, done with cheap print on flimsy paper, calling for people to “Join the Brotherhood of Mutants” or stand up for “Mutant Rights Now”. Charles riffled through them with a frown on his face. He had heard of this group before. They were quite active at Raven’s university, and apparently were conjuring all kinds of trouble to get their message heard. As much sympathy as Charles had for the cause of mutant rights, he couldn’t say that he approved of the Brotherhood’s methods to ‘raise awareness’, and he wasn’t surprised in the least that Erik seemed to be involved with them.

The only other treasures Charles found was in Erik’s bedside table. For one, there was an almost disconcerting amount of condoms along with three different kinds of lube, which was just-- yeah. Apparently Erik liked to be prepared. A lot. But even more interesting was what Charles discovered shoved further to the back. There was a framed and faded picture of a woman with dark hair and worrid eyes - the only one in the whole apartment, a golden Star of David on a delicate chain and - of all things - a switchblade.

The thought of the knife lying so close to where he had slept made Charles a little nervous and so he picked it up and slid it into his pocket.

When Charles was sure he had gleaned all that he could from Erik’s living arrangements, he turned to his secondary source of information - the neighbors.

On the first and second floor no one answered the door, but on the third he finally had success. The woman peeking out through the crack of the door with a suspicious frown was middle-aged, dressed in a plain housedress and had platinum blond hair frozen in a badly done perm.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Charles tried to ignore the uncharitable wash of pity and repulsion that leaked from the woman’s mind as soon as she saw his wheelchair, and instead forced himself to paint on his most winning smile.

“Hello. My name is Charles Xavier. I wanted to introduce myself, since I’ve just moved into the apartment on the top floor--”

“Did they finally get rid of that hooligan?” the woman interrupted him, pushing the door open a little further. There was a spark of delight in her beady eyes.

“Hooligan?”

“That terrorist who rented the apartment before you!”

“A terrorist, you say?” Charles made himself look gullible and interested. “Are you talking about Mr. Lehnsherr?”

“I believe that was his name, yes,” the woman scoffed. “German, you see. As if that wasn’t suspicious enough. But the police was here for him more than once, and then it turned out he was one of those mutant freaks! Can you imagine?”

Charles had to actually brace himself against the toxic mixture of contempt and self-righteousness with an underlying, festering fear that seemed to gnaw at the woman’s insides.

“You don’t say?” he pressed out, his smile frozen on his face. “Do you know what the police wanted from him, by any chance?”

The woman waved her hand, as if that was neither here nor there, but there was a spike of excitement in her mind at the prospect of giving Charles all the gossip.

“Well, I don’t know the details.’’ She lowered her voice and looked around as if she expected Erik to appear in a cloud of smoke and sulfur. “But you know their kind. Rioting in the streets, shouting for their so-called rights and trying to make themselves look like victims when they’re nothing but monstrosities. They’re all criminals, violent, you know. You can’t trust them. Even sabotaged this building, that one did!”

She pointed upwards with a meaningful look to indicate whom she was talking about.

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Really? What did he do?”

“I wouldn’t know, would I? But we had all kinds of problems, let me tell you. The heating failed. Frozen water pipes one day, next it’s all fine and dandy again. And that one never complained!”

“I’m not sure--”

“Well, good riddance if they finally threw him out. They should round them all up and lock them away, that’s what they should do! That’s what--”

Charles could tell that the woman was really getting in her stride now, vomiting up all her hateful prejudices, but he had heard enough.

He touched his temple and stopped her mid-rant, planting the suggestion that all was well, that her new neighbor was completely unremarkable and she had no interest in his affairs or anything that went on in the loft on the top floor. He could have erased her ugly opinions, and in the past he might have been tempted, but Charles knew that these things were ingrained in people’s experiences and personality and you couldn’t just cut them out without causing so much carnage. It simply wasn’t his place to tamper with that.

Pondering the things he had learned about Erik so far, Charles returned to the loft. Somehow every piece of information he uncovered only led to more questions. But as annoying as it was to have an unsolicited lodger, Charles had to admit he _loved_ a good mystery.

When he heard the elevator move some time later, he was prepared. He reached out for the brilliant presence he had come to associate with Erik, and then followed him up on his way to the top floor, wheeling himself into a position facing the elevator.

Erik, though, stepped out without sparing Charles more than a fleeting glance. He took a few measured steps and stopped in the middle of the loft with his head cocked, a strikingly handsome figure in tight jeans and a black leather jacket, two days worth of stubble on his chin and cheeks. Not that Charles was staring. For a moment he just stood there, as if he was listening to a piece of music only he could hear, then he frowned and strolled over to the chess board, silently studying it before he gave Charles a sardonic smile.

“Interesting,” he commented. “But I’m afraid it was White’s turn.”

Charles returned his gaze unapologetically. “We could always start a new game.”

“I thought we already had.” Erik sat down at the the table, facing Charles. “And I believe it’s my move.”

His eyes had the intensity of a predator, but all Charles could feel from him was faint amusement. He inclined his head, conceding Erik’s point, and wheeled himself closer to give the board another look.

“I met your neighbor today,” he said after a moment, watching Erik while he captured one of his pawns.

Erik seemed completely unfazed, his focus on their game, as he asked distractedly, “Which one? The one who’s convinced I’m a hustler?”

“What?” Charles blinked, taken aback. “No.”

Erik flashed Charles a devilish grin. “Or was it a Russian spy? She can never quite decide.”

Charles shook his head. “No, I talked to--”

“Mrs O’Neil then?” Erik interrupted. “Lovely Catholic lady. I think she believes I’m the spawn of Satan, or possibly a vampire who also devours human flesh.”

Charles tried hard not to laugh.

“I meant the woman, in 3c,” he said. “Ms. Miller.”

“Oh. Well, then I’m just a terrorist.” Erik grimaced. “Pretty boring in comparison, you have to admit.”

Charles snorted. Erik sounded almost disappointed.

“Yes. That’s what she said,” he confirmed dryly. “Among other things. Apparently, you have acquired a rather fearsome reputation.”

“People fear what they don’t understand.” Erik said, moving his rook before he looked up from the board to meet Charles’ eyes again. “Do you fear me, Charles?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll give me back my knife. Please.”

Charles froze, caught of guard.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you?”

In answer, Charles huffed out an awkward laugh. Maybe he _had_ thought that, but he could now see how it had been an oversight of his.

“Do you keep track of everything metal in the loft then?” he asked. “Will you know if I missorted the spoons and forks?”

“Probably. But that would hardly be the same.”

“Why do you keep something like this in your bedside table?” Charles kept his voice mild but put a challenge in his eyes.

Erik didn’t even blink.

“It’s a memento.”

Charles regarded him skeptically.

“Call me sentimental. But you really don’t have to worry. I don’t plan to harm you, if that’s what you think. And if I wanted I could turn anything metal in the room into a weapon.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, or are you just bragging?”

Erik smirked. “A little bit of both perhaps.”

Charles smiled back.

“Why don’t I just hold onto it until you move out?” he said innocently, and nearly laughed out loud when Erik’s eyes narrowed. The flare of annoyance was only to be expected, but the underlying panic was a surprise, and nearly made Charles falter.

After a tense moment, Erik slowly leaned back, almost as if he was _willing_ himself to relax.

“Then I’ll have to ask you to keep it safe for me,” he said with false regret in his voice. “Because I’m not planning to leave.”

Charles sighed. “Erik, please. You have to realize that this isn’t going to work. I’d really rather not call the police on you.”

“I appreciate that,” Erik said, looking unconcerned, and captured Charles’ remaining bishop.

“And yet you can’t stay.”

“You know, there is something I don’t understand.” Erik idly turned the black piece between his long fingers. “If you really want me to move out, you have the means to make me leave. So why don’t you?”

“I’m not sure I understand."

“Don’t you? I’d have thought it was obvious. You’re a telepath. A quite powerful one, I believe.”

“Your point is?”

“You could make me think moving out is what I wanted.”

Charles could do much more than that. Actually, getting rid off Erik wasn’t nearly as difficult as Erik liked to make out, if only… well, if only Charles had been willing to follow his words up with deeds. There were reasons why he hadn’t yet, of course. Good reasons, and maybe a few bad ones as well.

“That would go against my ethics,” he said finally, because it was the truth, after all.

Erik, the bastard, scoffed.

“What about you, then?” Charles asked. “You could easily lift me and my chair and drop me out on the street. Why don’t you?”

Erik shot him an amused look. “I could. But I’ve been told that’s very rude, and I wouldn’t want you to think I have no manners at all.”

“But it’s the same, isn’t it?”

Charles let a satisfied smile curl his lips, and Erik opened his mouth, denial on his tongue, but then hesitated.

“Ah,” Charles voice turned sardonic. “Or would it make a difference if I wasn’t using a wheelchair?”

Erik shrugged, and then grinned at him unabashed. “If you weren’t in a wheelchair, it would be much harder to lift you. But you’re missing the point.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not trying to get rid off you.” Erik leaned forward and moved his queen. “Checkmate.”

Damn.

Charles couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bested him at this game, and he’d been so distracted by their conversation that he hadn’t even seen it coming. If there was one thing Charles hated, it was losing and so he proposed a rematch, to which Erik happily agreed before he went and fetched them each a drink.

Two games and three scotch later, Erik stood and stretched, his shirt riding up to expose the skin of his stomach.

“It’s gotten late,” he declared with a yawn. “I think I’ll be going to bed. And with that I mean my bed.” He sent Charles a wicked smile. “The one I made myself and in which I have slept for the past three years.”

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Erik cut him off with a knowing look. “And before you try to guilt-trip me again, let me remind you that you’re more than welcome to share.”

He winked, and all Charles could do was watch him leave as he sauntered off towards the bedroom, appreciating the view of Erik’s ass, and thinking that he probably had to concede this round to Erik.


	3. The Seduction Game

Charles didn’t take Erik up on his offer to share. Instead he tried his best to make himself comfortable and secure on the couch and cursed Erik every hour until dawn. But that was only the beginning. During the next few days Charles’ attempts to get Erik to move out turned more and more into both of them trying every trick in the book to put one over each other and - most importantly - beat the other to the bed.

First, Charles called a moving company and directed them to pack up all of Erik’s things - although they only filled four meagre boxes, which he then had them stack by the elevator. Then he threw away Erik's cigarettes - a disgusting habit, really - and started to drink all of Erik’s beer from the fridge before he decided to just pour that down the drain as well because he didn’t actually  _like_ beer all that much.

If he ended up a little tipsy anyway, it at least gave him a good reason to declare that he was going to bed early, shortly after Erik had come home. Erik narrowed his eyes at him, having seen the boxes and the empty beer bottles on the counter, but there was a spark of amused respect mixed with that strange hunger again, before he silently retreated up to the roof once more.

Charles slept like a log, at least until he was woken at 5 am by an ear-splitting noise. He found Erik in the kitchen making coffee while shimming his hips to some obscure rock band blasting from the speakers. The boxes had been unpacked and neatly folded. Charles blinked through blurry eyes, and maybe he would have called the police right there and then, if he had not been so mesmerized by Erik's ass, moving to the rhythm, clad in tight jeans.

Then he remembered that it was Monday, and cursed Erik some more. Charles had meetings that made him want to wring somebody’s neck all day, and when he finally came home, he found Erik pulling down all the sheets and covers from the bed to put them in the washing machine with a smug smile. While the cycle ran, Charles let himself be talked into another round of chess. He was determined to beat Erik this time, but after nearly two hours the game ended in a stalemate.

“Interesting analogy, don’t you think?” Erik asked with a grin and pulled out a new pack of smokes, lighting one right there in the living room. Then he bid Charles goodnight and went to fetch the bedding from the dryer.

Charles shook his head. He didn’t quite know why he was going along with Erik's antics, but taking more drastic measures and calling the police felt rather unsporting now. In the beginning he had hoped Erik would see reason and leave on his own, but he had obviously not taken into account that the man was stubborn as a mule and - to Charles perplexity - seemed perfectly content with living like this.

Charles, on the other hand, _did_ value his privacy, which seemed like a foreign concept to Erik. The man had no problem with walking out of the shower naked to get dressed right in front of Charles - who had to try very hard not to get all flustered because he was aware that this was exactly what Erik wanted. Then again, on those mornings Erik was already gone when Charles got up, the only sign of him the rinsed mug in the sink and the lingering scent of coffee and the soap he had used, Charles couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Yes, Erik was a bit of an asshole, and yet he had to admit that the more he got to know him, the more he started to like him. He was smart and witty and - maybe more than anything - a challenge. In comparison to his step-father’s bootlickers, whom he had to deal with at the company, Charles’ uninvited housemate seemed like a minor annoyance. An annoyance who kept running around shirtless in Charles’ apartment and beating him at chess.

That didn’t mean that Charles had changed his mind, though. He wasn’t going to _live_ with Erik, that would be ridiculous. But maybe he had gone about this the wrong way. Erik obviously had no idea where to go, and Charles had promised him in the beginning that he would help him find a new place. So once Friday afternoon came around and Charles had put out the worst of the fires at the company, he decided to finish early and make some calls and inquiries before he went home.

On the way back he got dinner from the Chinese place down the street, since the amount of empty take-out boxes in the trash indicated that Erik liked it. Not that Charles was trying to butter him up.

Erik was home, reading on the couch, frowning when Charles held up the food, but then went to set the table without a question. His mind was a tangle of emotions too hard to decipher, but there was a warmth to it that made Charles relax like he was sinking into a hot bath.

“So how was your day, darling?” Erik asked once they had settled down at the table. His eyes were sparkling with mirth.

“Long. Annoying. But fruitful.” Charles allowed himself a small smile, but didn’t let himself forget what they had to talk about. “By the way,” he continued, picking up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “I talked to a friend of mine today. Moira MacTaggert. She’s in charge of student accommodations, and she says she'll be able to find a place for you.”

The warmth that had been penetrating from Erik’s mind was turning to ice so quickly it made Charles shiver.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Erik said coldly, putting his own chopsticks down and pushing back his chair.

“No, honestly! If Moira--”

“Did you tell her I’m a mutant?”

Charles broke off. “Well, no, but why would that be an issue?”

Erik laughed disbelievingly. “Oh, believe me, it’s going to be an issue. Because it’s _always_ an issue. Why the hell do you think I was evicted? And _Moira MacTaggert?_  She wouldn’t give me a place to stay if hell was freezing over, that woman hates my guts!”

“You… you know Moira?” Charles asked bewildered.

“Oh, yes. We had the dubious pleasure.”

“How do you--?”

“Because they discriminate against mutants!” Erik yelled, jumping up. “Like Alex Summers. That boy pulled himself out of the gutter. He’s a good kid, but he can shoot energy rings from his chest. He got rejected because allegedly his mutation violates fire regulations. Another girl wasn’t allowed in because she can walk through walls and apparently that would threaten other students’ privacy! And don’t get me started on Azazel. He mostly applied to prove a point, but one of them actually said ‘We can’t have Satan stay in the dormitories’. Because he’s got red skin and a tail, he must be the devil.”

“That’s despicable,” Charles agreed, appalled by what he was hearing. “But I’m sure Moira wouldn’t--”

“She was quick enough to report me for vandalism.”

“Vandalism? What did you do?”

“Melted all the locks in the building shut.”

Charles gaped. “While there were people inside?” He didn’t know whether he should feel even more appalled or congratulate Erik on his ingeniousness.

Erik shrugged. “We offered to free them. Those who refused to let Azazel teleport them out really didn’t deserve better.”

“That’s--”

“Impressive? I thought so, too.”

“Not exactly what I was going for,” Charles muttered.

Erik smiled tightly at him. “Mutants have to stop being ashamed for what they are. We’re the superior species and yet we’re treated like criminals and monsters. Even someone like you - a rich, privileged and respected man - doesn’t dare to admit he’s a mutant.”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I simply don’t feel like declaring my private business to the public.”

“Easy for you to say. But what about those of us who don’t have the choice? Who have mutations that are visible or who can’t control it well enough to keep it secret? They pay the price.”

He stared at Charles, unwavering, with his hands balled into fists and his whole body tense like a coiled spring, and Charles was hit with a sudden and completely inappropriate wave of attraction.

“Anyway,” Erik said after a moment with a sardonic look. “With a criminal record like mine, there’s no point in applying for student housing. Even if you’re not a mutant.”

Charles nearly choked. “Criminal record?”

“Yes.” Erik grinned through his teeth, his expression and mind pure defiance. “Does that make you nervous? You only have to look if you want to know.” He pointed at his temple.

It was tempting. Charles couldn’t deny that he was curious and Erik's mind was incredibly seductive, but he had the distinct feeling that – this time – Erik's invitation was almost a test. He didn’t look, and that night Erik slept on the couch out of his own volition.

But even though he’d won the bed, it took Charles much longer to fall asleep. He kept seeking Erik's unconscious but warm presence in the living room and wondered how he still knew hardly anything about the man after all.

 

* * *

 

Charles slept late the next day and only woke up when the door fell shut behind Erik long after the sun had risen outside the windows. He had no idea where Erik was off to once more on a Saturday morning, but the scent of bacon and coffee tickled his nose, and when he wheeled himself out of the bedroom he found breakfast on the table. Next to the plates lay an envelope full of twenty dollar bills that – when counted – added up to exactly half the rent of the loft.

Charles looked down at the bills with a helpless smile. So maybe he _was_ living with Erik after all. And how very much like him to pay a millionaire rent after refusing to leave the place.

Still, Charles was in a strangely good mood all day, and that didn’t even waver when Raven was half an hour late for their lunch date. When she finally dropped on the chair opposite with her cheeks glowing from the cold, fighting with her scarf and gloves and at least three big shopping bags, she didn’t even offer an apology, but that, too, left Charles unperturbed today.

“So,” his sister said, blowing a damp strand of her blond hair out of her face. “How is it going? Did you get rid off your burgler?”

Charles rolled his eyes and waved at the waiter who seemed to have less patience than Charles. “Erik is not a burgler. Trespasser, maybe, although he certainly sees that differently.”

Raven slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t sound like you handled it. Do I have to come over after all?”

Charles chuckled. “Don’t worry. I was a little preoccupied, but I called Moira yesterday and she’s positive that she can find him a place to stay.”

Raven’s second eyebrow rose to join the first. “You’re finding him another apartment? That’s your plan?”

“Well, technically Moira--”

“What happend to changing the locks?”

“That would hardly help. Erik is a mutant. He can--”

Raven frowned. “Wait, what? He’s a mutant? You didn’t say he was a mutant!”

“It doesn’t really make a difference, does it?”

Apparently it did for Raven, because her whole demeanour changed all of a sudden. “What kind of mutation?” she asked curiously, leaning forwards and slurping on her drink.

“Electromagnetism. He can manipulate metal and… what?”

Raven stared at him wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. “Manipulate metal? Erik… not… not Erik Lehnsherr, surely?”

Charles gave her a questioning look. “That’s his name, ye--”

“Oh my god!” Raven shrieked, her hands flailing around and her mind a buzz of excitement. “You’re intruder is Magneto!?”

“Who?”

“Oh god, you really live under a rock. Magneto! He’s the leader of the Brotherhood!”

“Leader? I knew he was involved with them but--”

“God, Charles, he’s amazing! Mutant and proud!”

And then Charles got a mental picture of Magneto, seen through his sister’s eyes. And sure as hell, it was Erik. But he was… Magneto seemed like a good name. He had the radiance of a revolutionary leader, standing on a pile of wooden pallets with a megaphone in his hand. His shirt was riding up under his worn leather-jacket, his hair stood askew and there was a manic glint in his eyes as he shouted to the crowd. Someone else might have looked silly, Erik looked mesmerizing and, yes, magnetic.

Then something else occured to Charles. “How do you… did you go to one of their rallies?”

Raven suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Just maybe one or two… okay, four. And a few of the meetings of the local group at my university.”

“What?” Charles reached out and grabbed her hand across the table, cold dread filling his chest. “What if someone finds out--”

“Yes,” Raven returned sharply. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it? It’s his point, anyway. That we shouldn’t have to hide who we are!”

The skin of her hand rippled under his palm, and Charles gripped her tighter in alarm.

“That’s easy for him to say, when he can pass for human any day!”

He was going to kill Erik for putting such ideas in his sister’s head.

“But that’s it!” Raven objected defensively. “He’s completely open about being a mutant. And he’s proud of it!”

Charles didn’t know how he could talk sense into her. “Raven, once your secret is out, you might not be able to take it back,” he pleaded.

“You could.”

Charles closed his eyes. “And you know I would do almost anything to protect you. But please, Raven, don’t put me in that position.”

“Erik says we shouldn’t restrict ourselves just because the humans are scared of us,” Raven told him, her chin set in a fierce line.

“Dear god,” Charles muttered. “ _Erik_ is currently using his mutation to break into my home. What happened to calling the police on him and throwing him out?”

“I didn’t know you were talking about Erik Lehnsherr when I said that! Who’d want to throw him out, that man is sex on a stick! He can break into my place anyti--”

“Raven!”

“What?”

“I thought you and Hank...”

“Yeah, well, a girl can dream.” Raven shrugged. “It’s not like he’d be interested in me.”

“Can we please stop talking about this?”

Somehow the idea of Erik and Raven made Charles stomach feel like lead. He ordered another glass of wine and drank half of it in one go. When he came home he would talk to Erik. Their situation was becoming ridiculous and had to end, nevermind how hot and amazing his sister thought Erik was.

 

* * *

 

“You!” Charles barked when he came home two hours and a bottle of wine later. “You seduced my sister!”

“Pardon?” Erik had come out from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel with a frown marring his face. “No offense, I’m sure your sister is lovely, but I can assure you the only one I’ve been trying to seduce has been you.”

“That’s--” Charles broke off, his accusing finger still suspended in front of him. “What?”

Erik gave him a small, self-deprecating smile. “Too subtle?”

Charles didn’t think subtle and Erik were two words that went together. Then he noticed Erik was wearing an apron.

“What are you… are you cooking?”

Erik shrugged. “You seemed stressed these past days.”

“You’re cooking for _me_?”

“Well technically for the both of us. Why? Is sharing a meal not what civilized people do?”

Charles stared at Erik helplessly.

Erik sighed.

“Really, Charles, for a telepath you can be incredibly obtuse.”

“I don't read your mind!” Charles protested and most decidedly didn’t pout. “Do I have to remind you how you reacted the first time I did?”

“That’s because you tried to be sneaky about it.”

“And how did you even notice?” Charles grumbled, eying Erik through narrowed eyes. “People usually don’t.”

“I knew a telepath when I was growing up. I learned a thing or two.”

“Really? How did--”

“Charles.” Erik looked at him with fondness and frustration now. “I’m happy to tell you about my childhood, but could we for a moment get back to how I obviously failed to make my intentions towards you clear enough?”

“Intentions.”

“Of getting you into that bed with me. Preferably naked.”

For a moment Charles was rendered speechless. “You’re not joking.”

“Not even a little bit. Does that surprise you?”

“Well, to be honest, most people don't consider a man in a wheelchair that way.”

“Most people are idiots.”

Charles huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he regarded Erik appraisingly. “You have an interesting way of courting someone, my friend.”

“I’m an interesting guy.” Erik smiled through his teeth, and damn, Charles might be in trouble because he thought it insanely attractive.

“That you are. And you’ve made me food, which seems astonishingly traditional for you. I like it. So, uh... tell me, what are we eating?”

Erik cleared his throat - and was that a blush coloring his cheeks? “It’s something my mother used to make.”

When Erik served the food, Charles couldn’t hold back his surprised laugh. “You made me Matzah balls? You do know I’m a goy, not a nice Jewish girl, right?“

“I’m aware. If you were a nice Jewish girl, it would be you making me Matzah balls, and I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’ve seen you burn water.”

Charles waved his hands loftily. “An accident. Could happen to anyone.”

“I’m not sure it could. It might be a secondary mutation of yours.”

“Very clever.” Then Charles remembered his conversation with Raven and narrowed his eyes at Erik. “And since we’re at the topic of mutations, stop putting ideas in my sister’s head!”

Erik shook his head. “Charles, I don’t even know your sister.”

“She’s blue.”

“Blue?”

“Her mutation. She can shapeshift into anyone but in her true form she’s blue.”

“Wait… Mystique is your sister?”

“Mystique? Christ Almighty…” Charles would have banged his head on the table, but he didn’t want to spill the soup. “Did you give her that stupid name?”

“We name ourselves,” Erik said, raising a pointed eyebrow. “It’s a way to embrace our mutations instead of being scared of them.”

“Mutant and proud, huh?”

“Indeed.”

Charles chewed his bottom lip. Growing up, Raven had always hated her looks, but she hated the false masks she’d been wearing even more. She had always longed for approval, and maybe Charles had failed her in that regard. The way she had talked today had been new. Reckless, yes, but also strong in the way she’d been standing up for herself. And of course Charles wanted her to be proud of who she was, wanted all mutants to be safe and accepted.

“But why put yourself apart from the rest of humanity?” he asked Erik. “Don’t you think alienating people with vandalism and talk of superiority makes matters worse? Makes it even harder for mutants to live in this society?”

“Should we rather be begging for scraps? Societies don’t change of their own accord. They need to be forced.”

“Or taken by the hand. A little diplomacy couldn’t hurt.”

Erik leaned back in his chair grinning. “Are you volunteering?”

Charles scoffed. “Not if I have to get a stupid code name. And could I have some more Matzah balls? I think this is _your_ secondary mutation.”

Erik laughed. “I should have known feeding you was the way to your heart.”

“My heart?” Charles teased. “And here I thought you just wanted in my pants.”

“I’d be very happy to make that detour, yes.”

Charles chuckled and rubbed at his mouth. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk that whole bottle of wine at lunch; it was making him a lot bolder than he usually was now. “Getting me into bed isn't as easy as it used to be,” he said and rolled his eyes when Erik raised an amused eyebrow. “There is a bit more preparation and explanation involved these days.”

“I know.”

Charles looked at him doubtfully. In his experience most people had no clue about the problems a spinal cord injury created.

“I wouldn't assume to know everything,” Erik conceded. “And of course I don’t know the extent of your injury, but I did a fair bit of research over the last few weeks. You should see my browser history.”

Charles let out a groan and hid his face in his hands. “You researched paraplegic sex?”

“It seemed more proactive than just wanking.”

Charles nearly choked on his laugh this time.

“Although it might have had a certain side-effect.”

Erik grinned, and Charles bit his lip. He knew he was blushing, but he didn't care. Unexpected as this development might be, he couldn't honestly say that it wasn’t at least tempting.

“This is not about the loft.”

“No.” Erik looked him straight in the eye. “This is only about you.”

Charles worried at his bottom lip some more, and was hit with a bright spark of ferocious desire as Erik’s gaze dropped to his mouth. Charles licked his lips and smiled when Erik made a sound that was almost a whimper. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he tapped a finger against his mouth, humming thoughtfully.

“Maybe you could tell me a bit more about what you... had in mind?” he asked in a low voice, glancing up at Erik through his lashes.

Erik swallowed. “Maybe I can show you,” he countered, his eyes boring into Charles, and oh… Charles knew that hunger coming from him, finally recognized it for what it was.

Before his accident he would have been hard by now, would have been dragging Erik to the bedroom already, because he had always liked sex and had never been too shy to go for what he wanted. That wasn’t possible any longer, but Charles could still experience that tight, fluttering feeling in his stomach and god, he wanted to be that reckless again. Erik's face was an open invitation, hopeful and eager, and Charles thought _to hell with it_. He dropped his shields and let his mind stretch, drawing Erik's in.

_Charles was naked from the waist down and Erik was in his lap, straddling him and teasing himself with the tip of Charles' cock against his hole. His eyes were blown wide, his breaths rapid, as he put Charles' hand on his hips, silently asking him to guide him. Leaning forward with one hand braced on Charles’ shoulder, he stole an open-mouthed kiss, hot and filthy, before he brushed his lips along Charles’ cheek, to whisper against his ear._

_“I want you to fuck me. Want to take your cock and ride you till my thighs give out and you come inside me, leaving me all wet and sloppy and sore. Do you think we could do that?”_

_The Charles in Erik’s mind just gripped him harder and then pushed him down on his lap, impaling him and filling him up with that delicious ache, his cock hard and throbbing inside Erik’s hole. Erik’s long fingers wrapped around his own cock as he worked himself on Charles’ length and Charles almost balked at the sight of him, wondering whether Erik's was exaggerating, but the response was amused denial._

_Truly? Dear god, that's quite impressive._

_Thank you. You're quite lovely yourself._

_There was that sparkle of mirth in Erik’s words, wrapped in his ever-present honesty._

_So… this would be possible?_

_With some preparation. Spontaneity is one of the biggest losses._

Charles slowly retreated from Erik's mind, surprised to find him right in front of his chair, bent down towards Charles with his hands braced on the armrests and their faces mere centimeters apart.

“And what about a kiss?” Erik whispered, his voice like dark velvet. “Would that be possible? Although I have to warn you, I'm an amazing kisser, so if you have to prepa--”

Charles grabbed his neck and pulled him down, sliding his tongue into Erik's gasping mouth. The real thing was even better than the fantasy and Charles allowed himself to explore Erik’s mouth with abandon. If he had realized how easy it was to shut Erik up that way, he would have done this a lot sooner, and had he known how fucking good Erik tasted, he might have even done it the very first night.

Because Erik was right; he really was a fantastic kisser.

Erik did end up in Charles lap, a position that was more awkward in reality, but allowed Charles to slide his hands down over Erik’s firm ass, the way he had been tempted to for quite some time, so he wasn't complaining. Erik’s erection was rubbing against Charles’ stomach, and there was nothing Charles would have loved more than to fuck Erik, but unfortunately that wasn't in the cards tonight.

“What about dessert?” Charles mumbled against Erik’s lips. “Don’t think I haven’t seen that Kugel.”

“It will keep.”

“So impatient,” Charles chuckled but nevertheless pulled Erik closer, brushing his lips down Erik's throat and biting lightly at his collarbone.

“Tell me then. What else have you fantasized about?”

“Hmm,” Erik hummed appreciatively, long, deft fingers sneaking under Charles' clothes. “I wouldn’t be averse to fucking you.”

Charles wasn’t either, but... “I might have a different idea,” he whispered. “Take me to bed, and I’ll show you.”

Erik drew back and looked at him with his shark-grin. He slowly slid out of Charles’ grasp and then Charles was lifted along with his chair and started to float backwards towards the bedroom. He gripped the armrests, exhilarated by the sensation of being weightless like that, and looked at Erik in awe.

_You’re amazing._

_So are you._ Erik followed him, directing the chair with a few flicks of his fingers. _I hadn’t considered the other possibilities of your mutation._

_You mean telepathic sex?_

Erik’s smile got even broader.

_Adventurous, are you?_

_Always._

_Good to know._

Erik brought the chair down gently next to the bed, and then sank to his knees in front of Charles, hands sliding up his thighs. Charles had mostly come to terms with his paraplegia, but at moments like these he couldn't help wishing that he was able to feel Erik’s touch.

“Would it help if I'd share the sensation?”

Trust Erik to be astonishingly perceptive.

“Would you be okay with that?”

Charles couldn’t completely squash his insecurity. Would Erik really be able to trust Charles enough to let him into his mind in such an intimate way?

But Erik’s gaze was open and curious. His smile was warm. There wasn’t any hesitance, not even the tension of accepting a challenge that Charles had expected, only honest desire. Erik truly wanted this, wanted _Charles_ , with all that implied. It was an incredibly heady realization.

“Let me just…”

He felt a little awkward, having to steer himself from his chair to the bed in front of Erik, but Erik surprised him once again when he stalled him with a gentle touch.

“No. Let me,” he said and then he slipped one arm under Charles’ legs and the other behind his back and lifted him, seemingly without effort.

“Impatient,” Charles gasped when Erik lowered him down in the middle of the bed, dragging Erik down for another kiss.  

“Can you blame me?” Erik chuckled while he began to work Charles’ shirt open. “I think you’ve made me wait for long enough.”

Erik’s lips travelled down Charles’ throat, leaving goosebumps behind and making him shiver when his breath ghosted warm over Charles’ nipples. Strong hands pinned him to the bed as Erik took his time to explore Charles’ torso, biting, licking and sucking his way towards the waistband of his trousers.

“Where does it stop?” Erik asked, brushing more open-mouthed kisses over Charles’ belly.

Charles didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“It’s… it’s not a line that can be drawn.” His voice shook when Erik’s hands stroked up along his sides, and the buttons of his jeans popped open without a touch. “The feeling just fades…”

Erik was kissing and licking at Charles’ hip bone now, sucking tender little bruises into his skin as if it was a map he was marking for further reference.  

“So how do we do this?” he asked, mouthing at Charles’ mostly soft cock through the cotton of his boxers.

“Grab some of those lube supplies you’re hoarding, and then you can fuck my thighs.”

Erik cursed and clutched Charles’ hips tighter, biting at the juncture of his leg and groin. “What about you, though?” he asked after a moment, his voice muffled and his breath warm and damp against Charles’ crotch.

Charles pulled his head up. His hands framed Erik’s face and he stroked his thumbs over those sharp cheekbones before he carefully brushed the tips of his fingers against Erik’s temple.

“I’m going to come along for the ride,” Charles whispered, heart beating faster with excitement when Erik turned into the touch, as if was seeking the connection.

Crawling to prop himself up above Charles, Erik kissed him with renewed fervor before breaking away, his intense blue eyes taking him captive.

“Do it.”

Charles hesitated, but only for a second. He had only ever shared an open connection like this with his sister, but Raven had never really liked it, a natural instinct making her resist the intrusion. In contrast, slipping into Erik’s mind was unexpectedly easy, like gliding into a hot bath, welcoming and comfortable. Charles didn’t have to dive deep, just stayed swimming on the surface of Erik’s galvanic mind so he could share his emotions and physical sensations. Unlike with his sister, there was no fear inside of Erik, just curiosity and thrill, accompanied with a surge of lust that led to more kisses and Erik hoisting up Charles’ ass with both of his hands, thrusting into the crease of his thigh.

It took them a while to get rid of the rest of their clothes that way, but then Erik turned Charles on his side, spooning against him from behind. The sensation of Erik’s fingers working the cool lube between his thighs was remote, but Erik’s desire and anticipation, the pleasure of Charles’ smooth skin under the tips of his fingers, was brilliantly clear and incredibly intoxicating. There had been times when Charles had hated his numb and useless limbs, but to Erik they were as beautiful as every other part of Charles’ body.

“Have you ever done this before?” Erik whispered against the shell of Charles’ ear as he slipped his cock between Charles’ thighs, pulling him closer before he slowly started to thrust.

“Letting someone fuck my legs?” Charles let his hand glide down, to feel the tip of Erik’s cock emerge and vanish again and again. “Not since the accident.”

“I actually meant the mind sex.”

Charles chuckled. “That would be a first. I wouldn’t do it secretly, and I don’t think most people would be comfortable with it if I told them.”

“They don’t know what they were missing,” Erik breathed, increasing his thrusts. “You feel incredible. And I’m not just talking about your legs.”

Charles shuddered. Erik’s arousal was like a brightly burning flame, hot but contained, when he gripped Charles’ legs tighter to create more friction. Charles could hear the slapping sound of skin on skin, his body rocking with the thrusts, and he palmed his own cock, stroking in the same rhythm. He wouldn’t get hard, not like this, but it felt good all the same, just like the faint sensation of Erik’s hard length sliding along Charles’ balls as he used what had long ago become useless to Charles.

He could feel how much Erik loved to hold him like this, how he was dragging it out and teasing himself rather than chasing his release, brushing gentle kisses against Charles’ neck and shoulders. And Charles was with him in every thrust and every touch, the dual sensation almost hypnotic. When Erik finally let go and started to fuck Charles with an almost desperate need, it was all he could do to hold on and cling to Erik’s mind until he was flung over the edge, his stomach dropping and his toes curling, as he fell head over heels into a blinding nothingness.

He didn’t faint, but for a moment he thought he would. His mind felt fused with Erik’s. Separating them created little aftershocks that made Erik moan and bury his face in the crook of Charles’ neck, and  Charles couldn’t resist leaving a little window open, enjoying the warm golden glow of Erik’s contentedness and satisfaction. Crazy as this might have been, Charles couldn’t make himself feel a single regret.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think your mother would be very disappointed that I’m not a nice Jewish girl?” Charles asked lightly when they lay sprawled next to each other later, after Erik had cleaned them up and then pulled the sheets up to their chests.

He wasn’t expecting the drowning sadness that flooded out of Erik at his words.

“My mother is dead,” he said quietly, gazing up at the ceiling.

“Oh… oh, Erik.” Charles grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry.”

Erik shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. From what I remember of her, I’m certain she  would have been delighted, had she met you.”

“When did she die?”

“When I was twelve. I grew up in an orphanage for mutants after that.”

“An orphanage just for mutants? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Well, what would be better than to put all the freaks together?”

“That’s why you grew up with a telepath,” Charles realized.

Erik nodded. “Emma. They made her spy on us.”

“What about your father?”

“He died before I was born.”

Erik flicked his fingers. The bedside drawer slid open, and a moment later the knife Charles had put back there after all was floating above their heads, spinning in a lazy circle.

“This knife belonged to the man who murdered my mother. But the police didn’t believe me. My mother was killed with a metal blade, something my mutation allows me to control, although I had just started to manifest back then.”

Charles suddenly felt sick to his stomach. “No…”

“They held me for two weeks after. In a jail cell. Trying to make me confess that I had killed my own mother. They never found the guy who did it, of course, because they never looked.”

“God, Erik, I don’t know what to say. This is horrible and cruel and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“This is why I fight for our kind, Charles. You say that we’re humans as well. But they don’t treat us that way. The police locked me up like a monster instead of seeing a boy who had just lost his only parent. I couldn't do anything about it, back then, but I’m a grown man now and I won’t take such injustice anymore. Not against me and not against anyone of our kind.”

Erik turned so that he was facing Charles before he continued.

“So when my landlord had me evicted after he found out I was a mutant - because I fixed the fucking heating and the frozen waterpipes - I told myself I wouldn’t take it lying down and I refused to leave. ”

“They evicted you because you fixed stuff?”

“They evicted me because I’m a dangerous mutant.”

“Then you’ve been right to oppose that, but Erik, wouldn’t it be better to sway people to your side instead of feeding their fears?”

“Mutants are more likely to be the victims of violence, more likely to be convicted of a crime, more likely to be unemployed or laid off, more likely to be homeless or commit suicide, especially if they are teenagers. I don’t have time to make nice, Charles. I’m trying to change the world.”

And Charles knew that this was true. Erik wouldn’t settle for anything less.

“I admire that. All I’m saying is that it wasn’t the cold showers that persuaded me to let you stay.”

Erik narrowed his eyes, and a slow grin spread over his face. “You’re letting me stay?”

Charles grinned back. “Don’t tell me… Have I been too subtle?”

Erik kissed him. "You, Charles Xavier, are the worst cock tease I've ever met," he muttered against Charles' lips.

"But you love me anyway."

_I'm starting to think that's inevitable._

When Charles was pulled into a warm embrace, he couldn’t help but think that Erik had been telling the truth as always, he was headed right for Charles’ heart and - just as it had been the case with the loft - Charles knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.

 


	4. Out and Proud

Charles was ready to spend the next day primarly in bed with Erik. Get a jumbo package of Viagra and have Erik ride him into the mattress. Maybe take a few excursions for food and a shower at some point or try out that bathtub Erik was so fond of.

Unfortunately reality caught up with him in the form of Kurt Marko.

Erik and him were both lounging on the couch with their second cup of coffee, quietly sharing the newspaper and Charles’ feet tucked under Erik’s legs for warmth, when Charles got a call from his lawyers. Apparently they even worked on a Sunday, and had discovered final proof that his step-father had embezzled over a million dollars from the company. As awful as Charles felt about Kurt’s actions, hopefully this would prove to be the last nail in the coffin. Maybe even his mother would finally see sense and throw the bastard out.

But it also meant that Charles had to come into the office right away. He ended the call with a sigh, and turned towards Erik.

“Don’t worry.’’ Erik grinned at him. “Go be a corporate big-wig, I’m having a thing later anyway.”

“Does that ‘thing’ by any chance involve trespassing and property damage?”

Erik gave him a look over the top of the paper. “I’ll have you know that it’s a completely innocentl, non-violent protest against discrimination of mutants in the educational system.”

“Sounds wonderful. Have fun and don’t melt any doors then!”

“Locks!” Erik called at his back, laughter in his voice.

“Those either!” Charles shouted over his shoulder, grabbing his coat and wheeling himself into elevator and then chuckled to himself all the way down to the street.

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, the meetings with his lawyers, the board and - most unpleasantly - his step-father took all day. It was late in the evening that Charles got home, hoping for a scotch and maybe a game of chess before he and Erik could snuggle into bed. Instead he found his sister waiting for him, sitting on his couch in the semi-darkness still wearing her coat.

“Raven? What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

Raven looked up at him, her mind radiating anger and anxiety. “They’ve arrested Erik.”

Charles stomach dropped. “What? Oh my god... What did he do?”

“Of course you would ask that,” Raven scoffed bitterly. “He didn’t do anything wrong, none of us did!”

“I’m not saying-- “ Charles started but then shook his head. “Tell me what happened.”

Raven crossed her arms in front of her, regarding him with a hint of uncertainty. “Turn on your TV. It’s all over the news.”

This wasn’t reassuring in the slightest, even if Raven was exaggerating, but Charles nevertheless obeyed. Since he didn’t watch TV regularly - the one who used it was mostly Erik - he had to go search for the remote before he could turn on one of the news channels. Then he stared in dawning horror.

_“...in New York where police broke up a protest dedicated to mutant rights this afternoon. Four people, including one officer, had to be taken to the hospital, and there have been numerous arrests, most prominently one of the central figures of the mutant rights movement -  “Magneto”, as he’s referred to by his devoted followers. He’s the leader of the so called “Brotherhood of Mutants”, who have been making headlines these past months with their sometimes controversial campaigns. We’re now going live to Matt Davis, who has been on scene during the events. What can you tell us Matt?”_

_“Well Laura, as you said this was supposed to be a peaceful protest focusing on the discriminations many mutants face in the educational system. Most protesters were young - university students, young adults but also lots of teenagers from local schools, mutants and non-mutants alike. What can be said is that the turnout was huge, a lot more people attended than even the organizers had expected, and people were excited, especially when Erik Lehnsherr, alias Magneto, took the stage for his speech.”_

The screen changed to footage of the park filled with young people, some with visible mutations, waving signs with the classic slogans of “MUTANT RIGHTS NOW” and “MUTANT AND PROUD” and some a little more elaborate like  “BLACK, WHITE, RED, BLUE OR GREEN –  ALL THE COLOURS LET THEM BE SEEN!”

There was a girl with dragonfly wings circling slightly above people's heads, while another was shooting red sparks from her fingertips and a blond boy was conjuring ice into abstract, glittering shapes next to someone breathing fire like a dragon. It looked like a fantastic carnival as much as a political protest.

_“What were the reasons for the police to break up the event?”_

_“The official reason for the decision is that the crowd was too big and there were safety concerns. Lots of mutants were showing off their abilities during Magneto’s speech as a sign of support, since one of his main messages is that mutants shouldn’t hide who they are. Police Comissioner Stryker obviously sees that differently. He’s said in a press conference just now - and I quote - ‘These mutants are dangerous, we can’t just let them run around and do as they please’."_

“That’s bullshit!” Raven cried. “Stryker is a mutantphobic asshole and everyone knows it!”

_“Law enforcement had been present from the beginning, but during Lehnsherr’s speech armored vehicles with water cannons pulled up, and it was announced that the protest was to be dispersed.”_

_“That sounds like the police was expecting trouble, Matt.”_

_“It definitely looked like they were taking no chances, especially since the Brotherhood isn’t exactly known for toeing the line of the law. But I don’t think anyone expected that police would crack down like this when the protesters refused to leave the premise.”_

Charles could only watch aghast at the next bit of film. The joyous mood of the gathering had shifted completely, there were yells of anger, police sirens and booing that soon turned into a chant of “You can’t pray the X away, we are here and we will stay!” while armored vehicles and police in riot gear advanced on the protesters, singling some out and dragging them away as they struggled.

The camera then turned to a boy, who couldn't be more than thirteen, being forced to the ground by two officers. He lost his red-tinted glasses and for a moment red lasers shot from his eyes, burning the grass and setting the trousers of one of the officers on fire. They pushed his face into the mud even more fiercely while he screwed his eyes closed, crying, “My glasses! I need my glasses!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Charles cursed, taking Raven’s hand and squeezing it when she let out a small sob. All the while his eyes stayed glued to the TV. Even listening to Erik’s rants, he couldn’t have imagined this, but maybe his time in England had made him blind to the rising tide of prejudice in his home country.

_“Do you know why Mr. Lehnsherr was arrested?”_

_“This is actually an incredible story, Laura. Unfortunately we don’t have footage because our camera stopped working. When police moved in and started to take down some of the very young protesters, Lehnsherr jumped down from the stage, and we saw him moving towards a scene where a young girl was held at gun point by an officer. Yes, Laura, you heard that right. The situation had become extremely charged, but then ‘Magneto’ used his mutant abilities to melt every single gun the police had drawn. Officers were pulled away from the protesters, I don’t know how, maybe by their belt buckles, and from what I saw he actually moved a whole tank._

_"Mr. Lehnsherr’s abilities are well known, though, and it seems law enforcement had come prepared. Some of the officers were armed with plastic guns. They made Mr. Lehnsherr stand down and he was then taken into custody.”_

_“Yes, and already that is causing an uproar on social networks. Do you know what he’s been charged with, yet?”_

“He melted their weapons?” Charles asked faintly, turning away from the newscast to give Raven an incredulous look.

“He had to, Charles. You weren’t there. You didn’t see--” She broke off, shaking her head.

 _“Thank you, Matt.”_ The presenter turned towards another camera. _“As it was to be expected these events have caused a wide range of reactions across the political spectrum. Here’s what Republican presidential candidate David Trunk had to say…”_

The screen changed to the picture of a blond man who looked a bit like a bulldog. Charles had met Trunk before, and had been deeply unimpressed by his enormous arrogance and narcissism that, sadly, wasn’t backed up by the merit of an equally great intellect.

_“We don’t even know if they’re human beings. They might be an entirely different species. Now, I’m not a scientist, but what I do know is that these mutants are dangerous. They are a danger to our national security and we should be aware of who they are and what they can do.”_

Charles turned away from the screen in disgust. He had seen quite enough, and he knew that this couldn’t even be the worst. He really didn’t want to know what the right-wing networks were saying.

His eyes fell on the newspaper on the side table. Only this morning he and Erik had been making jokes. Now he had to find Erik a lawyer to get him out of jail, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what Erik had told him last night. How he had been put in a jail cell after witnessing his mother’s murder. Charles was determined to not let something like this happen again. He reached for the remote again to shut the TV off, when Raven stalled him with a hand on his forearm.

“Wait.”

_“... that bail has been set for Mr. Lehnsherr’s release at 1.5 million dollars. This is unexpectedly high, but we do not yet know what charges he’s facing. We’ll be talking to someone from the D.A.’s office about this after a short break. Stay tuned!”_

“One point five million?” Raven cried outraged. “That’s insane!”

It wasn’t. Not if the purpose was to keep Erik in jail.

“I need to know exactly what happened, Raven,” Charles said, already coming up with a game plan in his mind. He didn’t allow himself to feel anything but calm determination. The worry, the anger, the fear--  that all could come later.

Raven hesitated, battling with herself for a moment before she let out a deep breath. “Okay. Go on. You can look.”

Charles could count the occasions on one hand when his sister had allowed him to read her mind since they were kids.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Charles tried to give her a reassuring smile before he gently reached out, slipping into her thoughts and diving for the memory of the past afternoon.

Raven's mind was a chaos of emotions, everything thrown into sharp relief by the adrenalin that was still running through her veins, and for a moment Charles had to struggle through the chaos of colors and noise and emotions until he found--

_A girl. Long dark hair with a single silver streak obscuring her face. She was maybe fifteen or sixteen, and she looked frightened out of her mind as she pressed herself back against a corner of the stage with her hands craddled against her chest, one stuck in a thick winter glove while the other was bare. A female officer was waving a gun at her, yelling, “Get down! Get down and put your hands on your head! Get down now!”_

_“I can’t! You don’t understand, but I can’t!”_

_That’s Anna Marie. Rogue._  Raven supplied in his head. Even her mental voice trembled. _Her mutation… she absorbs life energy. If it’s more than a fleeting touch, it will kill you, which is why she usually wears gloves. She’s so scared of what she can do and--_

 _And if the officer had tried to cuff her, it might have killed her,_ Charles concluded for her.

_Erik came rushing out of nowhere just when there was a bang that struck Charles like lightning. Because he realized what the reporter had not. A shot. There had been a shot. And a bullet that Erik caught in the cradle of his palm._

“Oh my god…”

Charles sank back in his chair breathing hard. Erik had saved that girl’s life. And then he had done the only thing he could think of, fearless and without any hesitation.

Of course the police wouldn’t just let him get away with that. what worried Charles more, were the plastic guns.They had come prepared for Erik. They had invented a way to circumvent his powers because they saw him as a threat, and now they had set his bail so high it would be nearly impossible to raise, because they wanted him to remain locked up. Charles narrowed his eyes. They didn’t know it yet, but they were in for a surprise.

“I grabbed Anna Marie and ran,” Raven explained, unaware of Charles’ thoughts. There were tear-tracks on her cheeks. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do.”

Charles held out his arms, and she rushed into his embrace. “Don’t you dare be sorry. You did the right thing. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered into his shoulder.

Charles stroked her back. “I know. But you’re here now. It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

He kissed Raven on the temple before he disengaged from their embrace, and now he allowed himself some anger to fuel his resolve.

“Can you give me my phone?” he asked. “I have some calls to make.”

 

* * *

 

Half a dozen calls and twenty-four hours later, Charles was sitting in a TV studio, looking calm and sophisticated while sweating under the camera lights. Laura McKinnon, the anchorwoman who had reported on the protest and Erik’s arrest, was sitting next to him. She gave him a small smile, before she slipped on her professional mask again and the cameras started rolling. Charles wondered if she would still be smiling at him by the end of their interview.

“Dr. Xavier, you’re the son of Brian Xavier, prominent founder of Xavier Industries, which you’ve only recently taken leadership over. Forbes magazine lists you in the top hundred of America’s richest men and women. But you’re also a scientist. Is that right?”

Charles took a deep breath. There was no need to be nervous. He could do this. Anyway, he had passed the point of no return already hours ago. This was just the final step.

“Yes. The same was true for my father, actually.”

“What exactly is your field of expertise?”

“My research has been focused on what is most commonly referred to as the ‘X-Gene’, although it’s actually not a single gene but a larger area in the human genome where lots of mutations are concentrated. These lead to things like hightened senses, exaggerated strength or extraordinary abilities. It’s a fascinating topic, and there’s still a lot we don’t know.”

“So what do you say to people like David Trunk, who claim that mutants might not be humans but a different species?”

Charles barely kept from rolling his eyes.

“I think Mr. Trunk is right in exactly one point. He’s not a scientist. That couldn’t be more true, and he obviously has no understanding of science either. Mutants are as much human beings as people with red hair, which is a mutation as well, just one we’ve gotten used to. But in the Middle Ages it was seen as a sign of witchcraft. One would have hoped that we’ve moved past such superstition. What defines a species is the capabilitye of interbreeding, which is a simple enough concept that I’m sure even Mr. Trunk can understand.”

“He’s not the only one who says that.”

“No, sadly he doesn’t have a monopoly on ignorance. I can only hope that the American people will prove wiser and more tolerant. I think they are.”

“One of the main concerns most people have is that their abilities make mutants more dangerous.”

“I can understand these concerns. If you know that your neighbor can breathe fire or control electricity, you’ll hope that they will behave responsibly. I feel the same about gun-owners, for example, but the response can’t be to take away their constitutional rights, can it?”

Laura’s mouth twitch as she tried to suppress a smile. “So you don’t think that mutants are more dangerous than non-mutants?”

“No. In the end it’s always about the way we choose to use what we were born with. There is no evidence that mutants are more violent or more likely to committ a crime. Yet they are far more likely to end up in jail.”

“That brings us to the recent events that led to the arrest of Erik Lehnsherr, prominent leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants. Mr. Lehnsherr, or Magneto as he’s called by many of his followers, can control metal, and we saw yesterday that he was able to take on a whole squadron of police officers. Don’t you think that this raises reasonable concerns that someone with such abilities might disregard the law and - as Comissioner Stryker said - will do as he pleases?”

“I think Mr. Lehnsherr’s actions yesterday actually stand as a perfect example for what I just said. From the reports of numerous eye-witnesses and YouTube videos that have gone viral in the past twenty-four hours, it’s apparent that Mr. Lehnsherr didn’t use his powers to cause injury, but to save lives. The lives of children. It should be applauded, and I think his arrest is scandalous, just like the whole police operation was.”

“You’re not alone with that opinion. The cries for Comissioner Stryker to step down are getting louder, and the hashtag ‘Free Magneto’ was trending on twitter by this morning. Now, Mr. Lehnsherr has indeed been released just before this interview, and it seems the one who has freed him has been you, Dr. Xavier. What was your reason to post bail for Mr. Lehnsherr?”

This was it. This was the moment. Charles had thought he’d be nervous. He had thought he’d be tempted to back out. Instead he was as certain as he had ever been that he was doing the right thing.

“Mr. Lehnsherr and I have gotten to know each other recently, and while I don’t necessarily share all of his viewpoints, I consider him a friend. I like to believe that I would have done the same thing had he been a stranger. I was shocked and appalled when I saw the footage of yesterday’s events, but the truth is that it was Erik Lehnsherr who opened my eyes to how deeply discrimination against mutants is ingrained in our society. In fact, this everyday discrimination is the reason we met.

“A few weeks ago, I rented an apartment. Nothing high-end, but nice enough and with wheelchair access, which is harder to find than you might think in New York. Upon moving in, I met the previous tenant and learned that he had been evicted. Not because he had caused trouble, you see, but because he fixed the heating with his ability when it broke down. Because he defrosted the waterpipes. To put it plainly, because he was a mutant. We decided to share the apartment, and soon came to realize that, despite our obvious differences, we have a lot in common.”

Here Charles paused for effect, waited just another beat longer before he put on a charming smile and said, “Most noteably, of course, because we are both mutants.”

Laura’s eyes widened, first in confusion and then in glee. This was the scoop of the month, and she knew it. For a second it was so quiet in the studio that you could have heard a pin drop, then all hell broke loose. Charles calmly leaned back in his chair.

There. It was out. Mutant and proud.


	5. Taking Flight

Erik was on the roof when Charles got home. He could feel him up there, his rage rolling like thunder in the mountains, hiding the deep, dark pools of hurt and loss. Charles had watched on a screen as Erik walked out of jail next to Gabrielle Haller, Charles’ lawyer, teeth bared in defiance and eyes sparking with ire. But here and now, Magneto had vanished, leaving only Erik behind.

Charles tentatively reached out, without words, just a soft mental touch to let him now he was there, and Erik’s mind seemed to turn to him immediately, welcoming him without hesitation.

_You’re home._

_I am._

_And you came out on national television._

_It seemed like the thing to do in this situation._

_No more hiding?_

_A show of support for my boyfriend._

He could feel Erik’s smile, bright and warm, like the sun breaking through the cover of clouds.

_I guess it’s official now. You pretty much told the United States of America that we’re living together. Although I expect we’ll both be evicted tomorrow._

_Unlikely. I bought the building._

“What?” Erik came thundering down the metal steps, looking wild with his hair tousled by the wind and his clothes covered in dirt. “You bought the building?”

Charles shrugged. “I happen to like it, and fortunately I’m a very rich man.”

“The whole building?”

“I  thought it would be ideal for New York’s first mutant center.”

Erik gaped. Then he stalked forward and took Charles’ head with both his hands, pulling him into a fierce kiss.

“You’re really doing this?” he asked, looking at Charles in awe. “Standing by my side, fighting for our kind?”

Charles chuckled. “God help me, but it looks like I am.” He paused, giving Erik a calculating look. “I have one condition, though.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not negotiable.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“I’m not getting a stupid code name.”

Erik put his head into Charles’ lap and laughed. “It’s your choice. Remember? We name ourselves.”

“Good.” Charles hesitated. “Actually, I have a second condition.”

“You’re going to get all demanding on me, are you?”

“Well this one is really my right as new owner of this building, but… I realize that it might be something very personal to you.”

Erik gave him a puzzled look.

“I would like to see what’s on the roof top,” Charles said quietly, giving Erik a hopeful look.

There was a moment of pause, but then Erik started to smile. “I’d like for you to see it, too,” he said. “But the stairs are too narrow for me to get your chair up them.”

He put his hand on Charles' knee with a questioning look, and Charles nodded. Once more Erik lifted Charles up and started to carry him bridal-style towards the stairs, his chair folding itself and floating after them.

“I feel like I’ve just gotten married,” he teased, and Charles slapped his chest.

When Erik stepped on the roof with him, all laughter fell away though. The sight was incredible. The sun was sinking like an orange ball of fire between the skyscrapers and the first and brightest stars were just visible against the dark blue backdrop of the winter sky. But all this beauty paled against what Erik had done to the roof terrasse. There was metal everywhere. A whole tree made of metal with its leaves swaying in the wind. The old wooden water tank was covered in metal vines and intricate flowers were winding around an arbor that shaded a metal lounge covered in pillows.

“Have you made all this?” Charles asked when Erik put him back down in his chair, although the answer couldn’t have been clearer. Who else could have created something like this?

“There’s more. Come. Let me show you something that I’ve made for you.”

Behind the water tank there was an open space where Erik obviously was working on his art projects and some of them were lining the edge like futuristic gargoyles. It seemed that Erik had taken whatever scrap metal he could find and had turned it into the most stunning sculptures. They looked like creatures in the middle of transformation. Something new emerging from the junk that was still recognizable. There was part of a car with motor and fenders, turning into a reeling horse; something that looked like a printing press, turning into a giant tree, and--

“This one,” Erik said quietly from behind him. “This one’s for you.”

It had been a wheelchair once. Charles could still see parts of the wheels, but breaking from it, as if it had always been hidden inside, was a swan, spreading its wings and taking flight.

“Oh, Erik…” He felt his throat close up and quickly wiped at his eye. “It’s beautiful, it’s…”

“You. The way I see you.”

“It’s amazing, and I don’t know what to say… thank you.”

Erik smiled at him, uncommonly bashful. “Merry Christmas. Although, I guess, it’s still a few days away.”

Charles buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Oh no,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Well,” He looked up with a helpless laugh. “I have something for you, too. Because today is the first day of Hanukkah, right?”

Erik nodded, looking bemused.

“I can’t give it to you now. Not after you…” He gestured at the sculpture. “It will make me look like a jerk.”

“What is it?” If anything Erik looked more intrigued.

With a sigh, Charles reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small white plastic bag that he handed to Erik with a pained smile.

Erik looked inside and frowned. “Viagra? What--?”

“Well, I thought you might want to celebrate by letting me fuck you the way you had fantasized?”

He gave Erik a hopeful look. Erik smiled with all his teeth.

 

* * *

 

Later, when Erik was riding Charles’ cock like a champion and Charles was jerking him in rhythm with his thrusts, he bent forward and moaned into Charles’ ear.

“Just for the record. Best Hanukkah. Ever.”


End file.
